Chaos when it's least expected
by Clive Kedward
Summary: Ferele Dres is just a normal and somewhat racist Dunmer citizen of Ald'ruhn, but will he be able to remain himself when caught up in a seemingly endless series of unfortunate events that came when he least expected trouble?
1. Ashlanders

(**Note: **In this fan-fiction, many descriptions will not match what you would witness in-game. One might notice that the size of Ald'ruhn is highly exaggerated, as are many other things. Also, Ald'ruhn has neither Plaza, nor Bazaar, or at least not going by those names.

Not much is explicitly stated about Dremora or other Daedra in the franchise, so I'll have to make things such as their culture up.)

Chaos when it's least expected

Chapter 1: Ashlanders

Wind swept lightly over the Ashlands, not strong enough to raise a sand storm and devoid of the blight that tormented the Dunmer of Vvanderfell for decades, centuries perhaps. It was the same in most of Morrowind, though the Red Mountain had not recovered completely.

Ferele Dres leaned on his quarterstaff and looked up at the volcano. The Red Mountain had been home to Dagoth Ur since anyone could remember, but that had all changed since to coming of the Nerevarine. Everything had changed since the coming of the Nerevarine. Ferele groaned at that thought.

Most Dunmer, even those who previously supported the Sixth House had whole-heartedly agreed that the Nerevarine was a hero, but he – Ferele - had some doubts. _At least DagothUr was going to drive the Imperials away, _he thought, scowling. _Out hero doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to do that._

He probably wasn't. Quite to the contrary, the Nerevarine was planning to make an expedition to Akavir with Vivec, one of the supposedly false gods that Nerevar Indoril's reincarnation would have to overthrow, according to the prophecies. Almalexia was already considered dead, and rumors about Sotha Sil had been coming from the continent. Shaking his head, Ferele got rid of that thought. A skilled assassin could have gotten past Almalexia's Ordinators, but no one had found Sotha Sil's Clockwork City yet.

Hands in his pockets, Ferele found himself looking in the direction of Mournhold, on the continent, as he had the last couple of months. With a heavy sigh, he walked toward the Bazaar, catching a glimpse of what was a Tribunal Temple. The temple was part of Ald'ruhn as much as the Plaza and Under-Skar.

He stopped before Under-Skar, and marveled at how he still fell in awe at the creature's shell. It was the founders of Ald'ruhn that came upon what was thought to be the last Imperial Crab, and killed it, despite its size. Holes showed where spears and arrows were driven in Skar's shell. According to legend, the founders were armed only with ebony, which was not hard to believe, as not much else could break an Imperial Crab's shell.

Rumor said there was a small Imperial Crab in Cyrodiil, lurking in caves. The Emperor had put a bounty on it, in hopes to gather the remains of the last of its species. Ferele shook his head. Imperials truly were ignorant. If such a creature still existed, it should be kept alive, perhaps even by magic means.

It took Ferele a while to realize that everyone was gathering in the Plaza, and he did not like what he saw when he got there. Ashlanders. It was Ashlanders that looted and took apart the Temple. Dunmer that have not knelt to the Tribunal, but rather remained nomads and waited for the Nerevarine.

The four Ashlanders sat atop Guars, both Dunmer and lizard looking simply worn out, as if they had traveled for days without stopping. They seemed to be led by an orange-haired woman that looked like she was about to fall of her Guar. She was babbling something about the leader of House Redoran.

Ferele only noticed Rodric Beleth when the fellow was already standing next to him. Rodric was fairly short and stocky for an Altmer, but still as high as Ferele. "What's the savage sayin'?" Rodric asked him.

He shrugged. "I think she wants to meet Archmaster Bolvyn. She'll be lucky if she ever even lays eyes on him, never mind getting an audience with him." Bolvyn Venim was known for his hatred of Ashlanders and outlanders. He was made famous when he nearly destroyed the Erabenimsun Tribe in his earlier years. One of the savages held an Urshilaku Tribal Flag though, so they were not likely to be Erabenimsun.

Urshilaku. Urshilaku were the core of the Nerevarine cult. Ferele found himself grinding teeth. Things such as Ashlanders simply walking into cities like Ald'ruhn were unheard of until the Nerevarine came.

Abruptly, he became aware of people making way for someone. Athyn Sarethi was pushing through the crowd, or rather, two bodyguards in full Redoran armor were. Councilor Sarethi was a fairly handsome man, Ferele supposed. His skin was a washed-out blue color, rather than the usual Dunmer dark gray, and his dark hair was covered in several white stripes.

The Ashlander woman raised her gaze at him and started speaking, seemingly struggling to speak. "Nordling invaders… East. Ald Velothi… already… raided."

For a second, Ferele's heart stopped. Nordlings haven't invaded Morrowind for hundreds of years. He was faintly aware of a sudden silence in the crowd and of Councilor Sarethi taking a step back from the Ashlanders. Whispers and overall commotion rose up quickly again, but Ferele was already entering The Rat In The Pot, the nearest inn.

Ferele gulped down the cheap ale the innkeeper, still wondering how this could happen. Invaders in Morrowind. He noticed Aengoth the Jeweler looking at him from his own table. He Jeweler was the leader of the so-called 'Thieves Guild' in Ald'ruhn. Nordling invaders in Morrowind. Ferele shook his head. Had Skyrim really broken away from the Empire, or were these just barbarians who knew no law?

He didn't remember his hitting his head, but before he knew it, he was asleep, with it on the table.


	2. Decisions

Chaos when it's least expected

Chapter 2: Preparations

Ferele opened his eyes and blinked. This was the store he worked in, he realized. How had he gotten here?

"So you're awake!" A feminine voice said, as rough hands seized him and pulled him up. Everything seemed a blur thought he recognized Trivura Arenim, his partner in the store, what with her unusually pointy chin and her freckles. It had indeed been her.

He blinked again. Or tried to atleast. Blinking hurt. Everything hurt. Even thinking hurt, he realized, not that he could think straight right then anyway. It felt as if his brain had been taken apart and put back together improperly. It worked slowly, and sometimes not at all.

His legs trembled as Trivura let go of him, it was all he could do not to fall on the floor. "Had I…" he concentrated on talking properly; that had come out as gibberish. "Had I gotten drunk?"

"Drunk?" Her laugh sounded perfectly genuine, "You drank every single last thing that was put on the table in front of you. I heard you even tried to drink a kwama egg somehow…" She grinned at him teasingly.

Ferele would not let himself be intimidated. What was it that happened yesterday? He concentrated on finding those memories, but they just kept slipping away from him. Only when he nearly gave up did it hit him.

Before he could remember anything beyond Ashlanders in Ald'ruhn and Nordlings in Ald Velothi, Trivura pulled him to a cask of water and dunked his head in it. _By Almsivi, she's going to drown me!_, a though flashed through his mind. When she pulled him out, he barely gulped in any air before she repeated the process.

As she finished, he groaned. He could think straight now, but he also felt the pain at it's full. Hangovers weren't exactly something that happened to him a lot. Trying to forget about it, he started up a conversation with Trivura, "Have the savages talked to Archmaster Bolvyn?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean the Ashlanders", she said, sorting out tools and herbs at the counter. "Well, no, but Councilor Sarethi managed to squeeze some more out of their leader before she passed out. The Nordlings are headed to Gnisis, but Sarethi expects them to strike Ald'ruhn next. Apparently, Edwinna Elbert, from the Mages Guild has some plan involving Under-Skar or something."

Ferele snorted. Atleast this plan was not centered on the Dwemer. Most of Elbert's plans were. Usually they involved resurrecting them, and helping their race survive. Elbert had a strange interest in Dwemer.

Then it hit him that Trivura showed no intention of leaving. "Wait, you're not planning to actually stay here, are you?"

"Of course I am." She noticed his stare and continued, "We'll survive. They've already sent to the Buckmoth Fort and Vivec. I'm pretty sure they've still got some idle Ordinators in the great city of Vivec. And besides, the whole Urshilaku tribe and the population of Gnisis are going here."

Ferele scowled. Ordinators, Gnisisers, and ever Imperials he could bear, but a whole tribe of Ashlanders? He tried to think of everything from every angle possible, but thinking was still hard. "Oh fine, I will stay." He regretted the decision as soon as he made it, but something made him stand by it.


	3. Preparations

Chaos when it's least expected

Chapter 3: Preparations

Wind swept over the Ashlands, devoid of the blight that tormented the Dunmer of Vvanderfell for decades, centuries perhaps. In Ald'ruhn of House Redoran, Dark Elves, along with others veiled themselves, as sand rose up, carried by the wind. An ash storm was beginning.

Rodric Beleth sat on a bench cross-legged and silently recapped what had happened in the last two weeks, ever since the four Ashlanders came with their announcement. The Ashlanders themselves have proven to be much more likable than Rodric would have expected unwashed savages to be.

He could have taken crimson-haired Dranos for a mute at first, so rarely he spoke. He wore green and yellow rags, and never seemed to want to socialize. He was apparently the uncle of Atrya, their leader, who had proven to be extremely stubborn after she got some rest. The others were called Nedeni, a dark haired young woman who seemed to always carry her bow and Suul Maesa, an orange-haired and yellow-eyed bowman.

They eventually started to get along with the citizens, which seemed to aggravate Ferele, who had not been in a good mood for a while anyway. It seems that even the arrival of refuges from Gnisis had irritated him, though Rodric could not see why. Gnisisers would prove useful in the worth-coming battle if there was one, excepting those who left.

Both some Gnisisers and Ald'ruhnians were sent away on silt striders, along with enough provisions to last them till Balmora, though it was surprising how many people wanted to stay in Ald'ruhn. Even so, eventually it was time to turn to the Mages Guild, though it took some convincing until they agreed to teleport those who wished to leave to Balmora. They usually had a no favors policy, but seemed to stand by it even more strictly since the beginning of Edwinna Elbert's 'project'.

In truth, that was not the only negative thing that came from Elbert's plan. All the inhabitants of Under-Skar were told to leave, taking everything with them. People had started spotting something that can only be described as… an aura around it. Rodric looked at Skar's shell over his shoulder and sighed when he saw the pale-blue aura all over it, in some places denser than others. Some saw the aura less, some more, but no one else saw it constantly, not that he knew of.

Some Imperials were sent in to clean the place up, and from what they told, the same aura was even denser under the Imperial Crab's shell. The Imperial Legion had instantly been roused by the news, to the point where Fort Buckmoth was nick named the 'Imperial Anthill'.

Something about the aura just... pulled. Rodric tilted his head, struggling to describe it to himself. A blazing blue shadow. Frozen blue fire. A blue floating liquid. No, none of those were it. How it looked did not affect what it was, though.

Codus Callonus, an Imperial bookseller, had managed to dig up a book he had apparently forgotten about and according to the book, 'high concentrations of energy originating from magic and magic-esque sources' were often surrounded by a similar aura. It was natural, of course, that it had to do with magic, but if Callonus' book was correct, then such concentrations were extremely rare, and barely anything used that much energy.

Rodric grimaced suddenly. Something was amiss. He walked around the city, and then it hit him. Aryni Orethi, Baradras, Ethes Evos, and Rodric's wife, Tuveso, were among those who seemed to actually anticipate the upcoming battle and seemed to always be out, sometimes seemingly attempting to listen to something that wasn't there. They were missing now.

Baradras was found by Rodric next to what was once Ald'ruhn's Tribunal Temple, muttering something unintelligible. He looked up and Rodric took a step back, panting. The Bosmer's eyes were totally blank, and his mouth moved soundlessly, leaving whatever he had to say unspoken. He was still in his Gah-Julan armour, though without the helm. There was something there… Maybe it was a smell. Not quite, but something similar. A scent that gave off terror. Rodric stepped back, beginning to pant. He then turned around and ran off, looking for the nearest guard.


	4. The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Chaos when it's least expected

Chaos when it's least expected

Chapter 4: The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Trivura walked through the Bazaar aimlessly, the veil shielding her face from the storm. Ald'ruhn was almost quiet, as opposed to the anthill it had been for the last week or so. The near silence was somehow quaint, and the whole city looked picturesque, despite the ash storm. Maybe it was because of the storm. Maybe it was because the regulars were missing.

The regulars. Trivura shuddered. Only the Mages' Guild, the Redoran Councilors and some of the Imperials were allowed near Baradras, but she had seen him when he was being carried into the Buckmoth Fort. While he had been different from those she had seen, Trivura recognized the blank stare of a Dreamer. And Aryni Orethi, Ethes Evos and Tuveso Beleth were Dreamers too, only they managed to escape, off course. A horrible shame. Trivura always liked Ethes.

What this meant was even more horrible. Dagoth Ur had used Dreamers as the basis for the new generation of the Sixth House, House Dagoth. Now that he was destroyed, they couldn't exist. They couldn't!

But they did, and this it would only lead to trouble. There were four only in Ald'ruhn. Considering this, if they rallied, they could cause some damage before the Ordinators or the Imperials got to them. This would also very likely cause some people to doubt the Nerevarine, who had proclaimed that all Dreamers have awoken. Some already do, Ferele among them.

Where was Ferele, anyway? Trivura entered the Plaza, going past Skar, now completely isolated, and found Ferele in The Rat In The Pot, where he had been a lot recently. Sitting next to him was Tongue Toad, an Argonian.

The Argonian was sleeping, which was unusual. He wasn't exactly the kind to fall asleep in a public facility. Definitely not the kind of personality one would associate with Argonians. Immodest would be a terrible understatement. He was a member of the Thieves' Guild too, and told more than the others.

Ferele was looking into a distance, and seemed not to notice her until she sat down. "Oh hey Trivura. Damn lizard," he said scornfully, glancing at Tongue Toad and looking back a Trivura almost apologetically. "You see, it's just that all the other tables are packed full, and I wanted to keep away from commotion…"

"It's alright." He really needed to work on that, in Trivura's opinion. Argonians were among the people he hated. As was everyone he didn't get to know. Really, he was prejudiced against everything and everyone. He still would not act civil towards the Ashlanders, who were really fine fellows. Trivura looked around, before descending into silence. The inn really was packed full.

Tongue Toad finally woke up after they sat for a few silent minutes, and looked around, as though surprised to find himself here. He brushed off, which wasn't quite necessary and called the innkeeper, Lirielle Stoine, "I'll have three maztes for me and my friends here and a kwama omelette, chop chop."

He waited for them, engulfed in not even silence but rather an explosion of noiselessness, not even just the absence of silence. He received his mazte, a traditional Dunmer drink and then started apologizing for falling asleep at the table. "I really haven't gotten much sleep lately," He explained, "I've had to run almost a campaign against Hasabi. Sugar-Lips Hasabi runs the Guild in Balmora, and she thinks now that Camonna Tong are out of the business, we should take over the less… moral parts of the business."

Trivura leant forward. She didn't approve of how accepted thievery was in Morrowind, but it was always helpful to know about what was going on with al the rivaling factions, many of which were devoted to or atleast too part in the thievery, such as House Hlaalu, who were not too covert about it, the Thieves' Guild, as was hinted explicitly in the name and Camonna Tong, who took things further than that. Camonna Tong were indeed scattered right now, and House Hlaalu used thieves not so much for profit as to get advantage over the other four… five Great Houses so that opened up a whole new horizon for the Guild.

It was rather incredible that one could so blatantly blabber on about what was going on inside the Thieves' Guild and get away with not so much as a glance. But it was always better to know.

That train of though was cut abruptly by the door slamming open. A Redoran guard was standing in the doorframe, sword unsheathed. "They're here. The Nordlings, I mean" He announced nervously.

Trivura jumped up, along wit the other two, and whipped out her rapier…


	5. Oh Those Wacky Mages

Chaos when it's least expected

Chaos when it's least expected

Chapter 5: Oh Those Wacky Mages

The noise was explicable, but barely. Ald'ruhn was an epitome of commotion that day. Getting past the scurrying people, Dunmer and otherwise, was rather difficult. Ferele pushed his way through forcefully, followed by Trivura and the ever-ostentatious Argonian.

Clutching the quarterstaff he had been carrying around for the last few weeks, he made his way to the city walls, if they could even be called so, (city fences would be more accurate) and found that he could see the barbarians. Pulling the newly-found Rodric after him and motioning for Trivura, and subsequently Tongue Toad, to follow, he entered one of the watchtowers.

After a couple dozen flights of stairs, they found a pair of Dunmeri, along with a single Khajjit, and along with them, witnessed a somewhat terrifying scene. The Nordlings were there, a few thousands atleast, and surprisingly, there was… some order. For a horde of barbarians, they did not seem too… barbaric… Hell, they seemed to be divided into groups, with a visible leader.

Ferele pondered on this. Perhaps he had been dehumanizing the Nordlings too much; perhaps he was wrong to think of them as Fair Game. Certainly, a people who could organize an attack en masse can't be that savage…

These fauxlosophical thoughts of his were interrupted by the Khajjit. The all-too elven feline nodded towards a stack of bows and filled quivers. "Make yourself useful." Ferele picked one up, and stared at it for a couple of seconds, still wondering.

He didn't remember much of what happened afterwards. He had ruined at least one bowstring, and one only due to their limited supply of arrows. By time they had gotten down to ground level, casualties were many on both sides, and Ald'ruhn filled with gore. Clutching his quarterstaff, Ferele swung it at the nearest barbarian, breaking his neck.

Their escape to the Skar was bloodied also, but they got through with only Tongue Toad and Rodric harmed mildly. The aura around the Skar seemed more intense than ever somehow, and seemed to be taking on a shape. Ferele stood petrified, staring as it became more solid, until he heard someone running towards him from behind. He twisted around, swinging the staff, though he was not quite quick enough. He failed at dodging the Nordling's sword, though it only left a scratch, and his own attack was met, with the barbarian grabbing his wrist. He, in turn, clutched the Nordling's sword hand, resulting, of course, in a struggle.

It seemed fairly desperate for Ferele, until Trivura, smacked her rapier across the savage's face. He fell on the ground, and looked up at Ferele, who had already held his staff up, with a sort of regret. "Uh, Ferele?" Rodric interrupted.

"What?!" Ferele turned to look, and instantly checked whether his jaw had dropped or not. The dead Imperial Crab's shell's aura had solidified more, and the shape could be recognized as the features of a crab, though larger than most crustaceans would have. "The… they're trying to… revive it?"

"Looks like it," one of the Dunmeri from the tower replied. A quick introduction followed, with the short female and tall male Dunmeri and the Khajjit revealing their names as Illiad, Reick, and J'Deir, respectively.

The unlikely party turned to help a group of fighters in Redoran esque uniforms, when Skar's still barely tangible feet pushed it up, causing both sides to stop for a moment, and watch the crab in awe.

And then, for the first time in centuries, the Imperial Crab Skar was standing. The slaughter continued, though this time a number of Nordling archers dispatched, turning their attention to the crab, which was standing in the same spot, and flexing its legs (which started to gain colour) awkwardly.

Then Ferele noticed what was of course the flaw in Edwinna Elbert's plan (atleast, he assumed it was Edwinna's). Now that the crab was standing, Under-Skar was open, and in it were mages, unmistakably. And, as the perversity of the gods and the universe has no bounds, Ferele assumed they were controlling Skar.

He turned around back to the plaza, where most of the fighting was going on, and found a Nordling swinging a club. Ferele sighed mentally, as he had no time to do it physically and fell as it crushed against his skull, witnessing only his quarterstaff being crushed under a giant crab's leg before blanking out.


End file.
